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Jenna. Of course.
“Thanks anyway,” I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Sierra looks guilty, touching my arm. “You’ll figure this out.”
I nod, but inside I’m spiraling. No room, no backup plan. What now?
I lean against a cool marble pillar, my heart drumming in my chest.
“Hey, Brielle.” Conrad’s voice cuts through the noise, steady and calm. He’s here, suddenly beside me, his concerned eyes searching mine. “What’s wrong?”
I bite my lip, hesitant. “It’s my room…there’s been a mix-up. No reservation for me.”
Conrad’s brow furrows, his gaze sharp. “No reservation? How is that possible?”
I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. It’s all a mess.”
He watches me, thoughtful, and then he makes an offer, so casually it takes a moment to register. “You could stay in my room.”
My breath catches. “With you?”
His nod is confident. “Yeah. No big deal.”
But it is. Rumors at school are like wildfire, uncontrollable and destructive. “People will talk,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Conrad steps closer, lowering his voice. “We’ll keep it secret.”
My pulse races at his proximity, the air between us charged. Can I really share a room with him?
“Think about it,” he says, giving me space, a lifeline in the form of choice.
But is it really a choice when I have nowhere else to go?
My heart pounds. I glance around the crowded hotel lobby, everyone else sorted and settled. Just me floating without an anchor. Conrad stands there, patience etched in the lines of his face, waiting for my decision.
“Okay,” I murmur, the word a tiny lifeboat in a sea of uncertainty. “I’ll stay with you.”
His eyes soften. He grabs my suitcase handle, a simple gesture that sends ripples of awareness through me. We head to the elevator.
33
BRIELLE
We all follow Conrad through the grand entrance. His voice, usually calm and collected, pitches with a fervor I’ve never heard before. He’s in his element here, and it shows.
“Look around,” he says, gesturing to the sprawling hall filled with statues and relics. “These are the tales that shaped civilizations. Gods who loved, fought, created, and destroyed.”
I can’t help but be drawn in. Grayson, with his ever-cool demeanor, nods in appreciation, his eyes tracing the intricate carvings on a nearby frieze.
Conrad leads us to the centerpiece of the exhibit—a towering statue of Zeus, thunderbolt poised in hand, an expression of divine wrath etched into stone. “Here stands the king of the gods,” Conrad announces, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. “A ruler whose decisions could bring about prosperity or doom.”
He walks us through the pantheon, recounting myths with such passion that the ancient gods seem to come alive right before our eyes. His hands animate each story, depicting battles and loves lost, heroes’ quests, and the whims of fate.
By the time we reach the end of the tour, the air feels heavy with legends and lore. Conrad pauses, his gaze sweeping over us. “Now, go. Explore these halls. Find your own connections to these timeless stories.” He checks his watch, then adds, “Just remember to head back to the hotel by dinner time.”
I watch him for a moment longer, taking in the spark in his eyes, before I turn away to lose myself among the whispers of the past.
I drift from one exhibit to the next, lost in a reverie of marble and myth, until Grayson’s voice pulls me back.
